This is part 2 of a 3 chapter update.

- Penny

TW for dissociation & self-harm.

Darcy peeked out the front window, scanning the street to see if Gladys might be slinking around.

All clear.

The snow going towards the lake was iced over and slick. She slid for the last few steps. Then there was nothing, and no one. There was an overwhelming urge to scream at the frozen, empty landscape in front of her, aching for the satisfaction she felt yesterday while breaking all that glass, but a different sound filled the air, then; the grumble of a pickup truck, rounding the corner and parking somewhere behind her. The metallic screech of the door opening.

"Hey there!"

Darcy bit her tongue, hard, before turning. Five minutes. She just wanted five fucking minutes to herself, but Phil was standing on the edge of their lawn, smile as bright as his hair against the clouds and snow, and carrying a stack of binders. With his arms too full to use for balance, Phil's journey was less careful than hers, but he was better outfitted at least. Once he steadied himself on the pebbled shore next to her, he held his arms over his head triumphantly. "Got those books for you!"

"Oh, thanks." Right, the catalogs.

He shifted, rocks crunching under his boots, his expression holding no hint of discontent. "You're kind of a quiet one."

A compelling observation. "Okay." Darcy said plainly.

Unfettered, he kept talking. "So, never got around to asking yesterday, but what brought you guys out here? Heard you're transplants from Midway."

"Why does anyone move here?"

"Well most people are here for the quiet." Phil explained, not picking up on her hint of disinterest, and unaware of the irony in his simple statement. "I know Cait's here because it was a free house from her dad. If I had to guess, I'd say...maybe the kid angle? You know, with the wholesome setting, the big house to grow into, fresh air and all that..."

Darcy made a face.

"No?"

"Definitely, no."

"Ah well." Finally, he looked almost embarrassed. "Mark you down in the 'quiet' category, then."

Biting her tongue, she did her best to put on a cheery face and turned around. So much for peace. "Want me to take those books?"

Phil smiled back, excited by her quick change in attitude, but still hesitated. "I should probably carry them up for you. Wanted to speak to Theo for a minute anyway."

"Sure." God, it was a impossible to shake anyone here. "I'll run up and get him out of the attic."

"Ooh, what's in the attic?" He sounded breathless and almost giddy, keeping up that excitement while working to stay upright on the slope.

"I don't know - some project. Can't say for sure."

"So you think he'd be interested in making it an office space?" There was really a spring in his step now - he wasn't kidding when he said it was a dream project. "I could do something like that."

"Maybe. Won't know till I get him." This guy was sure giving Gladys a run for her money, although to his credit, his friendliness seemed (or probably just plain was) a lot more sincere. She let them inside. "Just, uh, wait here. Or look around, I guess - I don't care. Be right back." Darcy jogged up the stairs, pausing at the door to the attic. At first she reached for the knob, but chose to knock.

Even though whatever he was hiding wasn't at the base of the stairwell, Theo blocked the doorway.

Nothing suspicious to unpack there. "Hey, Phil's here." Said Darcy.

He looked almost as annoyed as she felt. "Oh, right." Sliding out, he immediately locked the door behind him.

Darcy still didn't feel much moved to curiosity. There could be a dead body up there for all she cared - whatever kept him occupied. Theo grabbed her hand, ensuring she followed him back down the stairs.

Phil was already rubbing his hands together, and Theo and Darcy simultaneously suppressed a groan.

"Hey, so I brought the books, but I just got an idea." if you guys want to follow me up to the road, there are a couple houses in the villiage I'd like to show you. Give you a sort of better visual on combining the restorative work with modern."

Theo changed the subject. "Oh, so what's all is in the village these days?"

"Oh, all kinds of stuff now. There's an antique shop, book shop, one of those 'paint a mug' places. Your neighbor down the road here, Rob Ritcher, he sells handmade furniture there. Uhhhh...a little, basic clothing store, general store, camp gear store...also a diner. Try the blackberry pie - warmed up, a la mode - you won't regret it. Wait, no." Without the books weighing him down, Darcy and Theo could now witness that Phil was big on hand gestures, which made him even harder to pay attention to for all his fast-paced speaking. "Actually, no. Buy a whole one - they sell whole, frozen pies there for you to warm in your oven. I feel like you get a better texture crust that way, it being fresh and all."

"Um...will do." Theo slowly agreed. Maybe if he talked slower, Phil would.

"Great, great. So are you guys game to go?"

Darcy shrugged, ignoring That Theo obviously wanted to stay put. "I'm game."

Theo kept composure, sucking in a short breath. "Guess I am, too."

"Cool. Just pop on your coats, I'll lead the way."

The ride over was silent. No lectures, no strained small talk, no, had to save all that effort for Phil. Enough of it to sustain a friendly outing.

Crane's recollection of the "town" was a cluster a cabins not much larger, collectively, than the lakeside neighborhood - with an added gas station. Along with that old gas station and diner, there were some fifty odd new houses, an apartment complex, a firehouse and police station, a small schoolhouse and library, and the quaint shopping center Philip had told Evie about. He was surprised he didn't at least see the lights from the attic window.

Phil encouraged them to look around while.

She paused in the window of the paint crafts shop, noticing a man staring at her. His expressions changed rapidly - surprised, confused, angry. Darcy wasn't offended by it, but something about him reminded her of something she was supposed to be doing.

There was a reason she had wanted to come here - not just her cabin fever, something that definitely didn't pertain to houses. Finding something...Looking for something...It felt significant, but Darcy couldn't recall. The man stood up, still glaring at her. It looked like he was actually going to come outside to say something, but he stopped. The anger in his face slid away, back peddling toward confusion again.

Theo came up behind her and pulled her away, into the antique shop next door.

"There's something here I think you'll appreciate."

—

Even though she felt somewhat distracted, the day out of the house was very much appreciated. They looked at Phil's houses, bought his recommended pie, and shopped for furniture. Mr. Ritcher was pleased enough with their business that he closed up shop to take everything to them right away, and even brought his shop hand along to move it all inside. The new red sofa found its new spot in front of the stonework fireplace. An old piano and walnut bookcases went in the front room, near the nook with all the windows. Theo patted her head after it was set up and "left her to it". Darcy had to admit, the piano looked pretty inviting. She sat down on the stool and lifted the key cover. She set the metronome.

Numbers, fingers, notes.

C, D, E, F, G, A, B, C.

D, E, F sharp, G, A, B, C sharp, D.

E, F sharp, G sharp, A, B, C sharp, D sharp, E.

F, G, A, B flat, C, D, E, F.

Left hand : five, four, three, two, one, three two one.

Right hand : one, two, three. One, two three, four five.

Numbers, fingers, notes. Rearranged. Playing something now. The tune was slow, moody, and romantic, so well known to her that her hands seemed to think playing it to be second nature. Darcy felt the blood rush in her ears, transfixed by the way her hands recreated the tune effortlessly and without thought, until she felt the cold, deep feeling creeping over her. The door in her mind rattled threateningly.

She stood up, the backs of her knees hitting the solid, wood stool so hard they buckled under her. The contents behind the door were seeping out in strange, distorted shadows, the familiar voices shouted in garbled tones. This needed to stop. It needed to stop. It needed to stop. Darcy knocked the metronome to the floor and fell with it. She ripped the metal hand clean off, and jammed it deep into her forearm. The shadows receded. She twisted it and the door fell silent again. Her breathing was ragged and frantic. After a minute or two, she yanked the metal stick from her arm, taking slow, more measured breaths as blood gushed from it into a single, red rivulet onto the hardwood.

That was enough of that.

Shaking, she picked herself off the floor, and pulled down her sleeve so as not to leave a trail of blood behind her on the way to what she hoped would be the lovely, mind-clearing bath in the pretty, clawfoot tub she never seemed to acquire.

As if conjured by her hopes that he wouldn't be, Theo was there, sitting in the love seat in the reading nook of their room. Although he did look at Darcy when she entered, she could tell he had just been staring off into space. And while he clearly noticed the blood on her sweater as well, he said nothing of it - didn't even look very surprised by it, to be honest - as he watched her cross the room, remove her shirt, and thrust her arm under the cold spray of the faucet. Darcy watched the blood splash against the porcelain and swirl down the drain with a calm, detached fascination. Once the water ran clear, she turned off the water, her arm clean but throbbing in pain, and went to get another top. It could be bandaged up later, when Theo wasn't staring her down. Really, she wished her would just either speak, or leave. He did neither, of course, and when Darcy went to walk out the door he grabbed hold of her wrist with a speed she didn't anticipate. Theo pushed up the sleeve and traced the small wound for a moment before looking up at her, locking their gazes, before sighing and letting go. He listened to her footsteps disappear down the stairs again.

"This is...the process." Crane mumbled to himself, remembering his own arduous transformation - except he was aware of it. Evie wasn't showing any particular awareness to how much she was changing, or why. She was not appreciating his gift, embracing the new self he was helping her create. What was happening instead was certainly fascinating - there was no doubt about it - but it wasn't what was...intended. Not what he wanted from this all.

It was time for a talk.